


Snow Ball

by dawnheart



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Confession, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Mild Angst, Miscommunication, School Dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 01:24:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10583505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnheart/pseuds/dawnheart
Summary: It is time for everyone's favorite winter dance, and there is confusion about who wants to go with whom.





	

Emil didn’t hate school. He could take it or leave it. The most important part about school to him was seeing his friends. He knew he needed to do well and go to college and get a degree (because his parents told him so, and that’s what “most people did,” whoever they were, he didn’t know them) but what he really wanted to be doing was hiking, rock-climbing, sky-diving,  scuba diving, bungee-jumping, snowboarding, …. Anything other than school.

One of his new favorite things to do was be next to Michele.  Just in general. Just in his vicinity. He was fine admitting to himself that he had a crush on Michele. Michele was attractive. Michele was really hot. There was no denying it. He knew it for himself, but if he needed any more confirmation (he didn’t, and wish there wasn’t evidence of it) but honestly any girl that was near him or tried to talk to him was just obviously attracted to him unless they just had a different type but like whose type wasn’t Michele? It didn’t make sense.

So, he always looked forward to this particular class change where he would be able to walk Michele to his next class. But he made sure to never say it like that, or make it seem too obvious, because Michele would get all caught up in “only girls get walked to class” which … was dumb. Like, gender roles. Why? But they could work on that later.

Emil knew he was kind of being a little too optimistic to assume there would be a “later” to “work on that” but … what was he if not stupidly optimistic and hopeful? That’s what he was here for.

And sometimes it was needed to balance out Michele’s—how to put it kindly—everything. But Emil loved everything about him anyway so it didn’t matter. But still.

When Emil made his way through the halls to outside of Michele’s class where he normally waited for him, he didn’t immediately see him. He saw a gaggle of girls gathered, surprisingly near the wall, instead of in the middle of the hall, where they would be blocking everyone. He wondered if he should ask them if they had seen Michele. Then he spotted Michele’s soft brown hair, and constantly pinched look, as if he was constipated, or had just eaten a lime. (So romantic!) Michele was in the girls’ circle, but did not look pleased about it. Happy to have found him, Emil bobbed and weaved through the crowd to get to them.

He and Michele locked eyes, and Michele’s purple ones flashed gratefully. Emil couldn’t help but feel extremely proud. He would always be Michele’s knight in shining armor, whenever the other would let him. Not that he thought of it necessarily like that. Michele could take care of himself. A lot of the time. But there was nothing wrong in asking for help. And Emil was there, always. To do anything.

“Hey,” Emil said to the group, but mostly to Michele.

He didn’t actually recognize most of the girls. Maybe one might have been in one of his classes.

“What are you all looking at?” Emil asked, looking at the poster. It was filled with the epitome of winter color palettes: silver, light blue, black, and grays. It said SNOW BALL in sweeping, pretty font, and information about the date, time, and where to buy tickets.  

“Oh! Are you all going to that?” Emil asked.

“Yeah, we plan to,” one of the girls said. “We are trying to convince Michele to come.”

“He is being quite stubborn,” another girl giggled. Emil supposed she might be cute if she wasn’t standing next to Michele. Not only did Michele’s beauty far outshine hers, like comparing the sun to a lightbulb, but also she was looking at Michele with doe eyes, and fluttering her lashes, and adjusting her hair. All these actions did not endear her to Emil, though he did not want to focus on that thought too much.

“Well, it’s time to get to class,” Michele said, readjusting his backpack on his shoulders. He looked at the space in between the girls.

Emil could get on board with that. “This is true! We don’t want to be late.”

Michele made a move towards Emil, and Emil grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the circle and steered him towards their next class. If anyone looked surprised or offended during this, Emil did not notice.

“Who were those girls, anyway,” Emil asked, when he thought he was far enough away from the girls to safely ask, and after Michele expectedly offered no information on his own.

“I don’t even know,” Michele grunted. “I don’t even think they are even friends with Sara, so I have no idea what they would even want with me. At least, I would hope that I would know if they were her friends.”

“They probably aren’t if you don’t know them,” Emil said. Then, he added, a bit too gleefully, “I guess we don’t have to worry about them anymore!” They arrived at their classroom and Emil pushed Michele down into a seat and took the one next to him. Emil proceeding to stare at Michele throughout the entire lesson, and didn’t hear a single word being taught.

  
  
  


Emil never got tired of going to Michele’s and Sara’s house—because it was Michele’s house—but also because it was gorgeous. Even though Emil didn’t really care that much about everything in a room matching in his own house, or anything like that, he wasn’t so stupid that he couldn’t appreciate the Crispino house. It was very obvious where Sara and Michele got their keen eye and refined taste. Emil was a little afraid of Sara’s and Michele’s parents and was usually happy when they weren’t there. (Not for nefarious purposes, though, now that Emil had the thought, he couldn’t help but blush, and now desperately hope that the Crispino parents were home, but would for some reason never see Emil.)

Sara was mysteriously absent. When Emil tried to ask Michele about it, Michele just angrily muttered, “some club meeting or something.” Then he yelled, “what is it to you, anyway? You wouldn’t have come if you had known?”

“Don’t worry, Michele, we can have plenty of fun on our own!”

Michele blushed, and widened his eyes. Then he whirled around and stalked down the corridor, leaving Emil to scurry after him, trying to catch up.

“We are not having fun,” Michele said haughtily. “We are doing homework.”

“Aw,” Emil whined. “You are no fun.”

“Then leave!” Michele said.

Emil sat down on the floor of Michele’s (huge) room and grinned up at the boy. Only Michele could have a black and purple backpack and look intimidating enough to not get made fun of. At least to the people who didn’t know him. Some people have made jabs at it but Michele always took it surprisingly well, just noting that purple is the color of royalty, and is a very beautiful, noble color, in general. Emil thought it was beautiful, too, on Michele, anyway.

Michele sat at his desk, which made Emil feel a sting of rejection. Sometimes the three of them would sit on the floor together. In fact, Emil can’t really remember if they had ever hung out without Sara.

“I’m hungry.”

Michele didn’t respond.

Emil sighed. He stared at Michele’s back, currently hunched over, as the chestnut-haired boy dug through his backpack for whatever he needed.

Michele mumbled something that Emil couldn’t hear. Emil assumed it was just him grousing, and thought he should just leave Michele to it. He lied down on the floor on his back.

Michele cleared his throat. Emil propped himself up on his elbows and looked at Michele.

“What?”

“I said,” Michele emphasized, as if repeating it for the hundredth time, “let’s do homework and go out to eat later. If you want,” he added at the end hastily.

Emil sighed loudly and dramatically, and flopped back on the ground. “Can’t we go now?”

“No,” Michele said curtly.

“Whyyy,” Emil whined. He was not above whining.

“We just can’t.”

Emil sighed loudly.

After a few moments, though Emil could have laid peacefully there all day, he did think that Michele would be happier if Emil had actually done more than nothing during their homework time when it did eventually come time to eat. Not that he would ever wish upon anyone to study on an empty stomach, but truthfully, he wasn’t all that hungry anyway. He just didn’t want to do homework, truthfully. Who could blame him? Emil opened his notebook but actually brought zero of his textbooks with him to school so he didn’t have them now.

“Michele—”

“You can come get it from my backpack,” Michele said.

Emil grinned in delight, even though Michele wasn’t looking at him. Michele knew him so well. “Thanks!” He leaned over from where he was sitting, trying to read the backpack without leaving his spot. He stretched and stretched, reflexively making little noises as he did so, and Michele sighed in response.

“You are so stupid!”

“You could have just helped me,” Emil proposed.

“I am actually working. Have you ever heard of it?”

Emil pouted. “Ouch.”

Michele glanced his way, always scowling, always unimpressed. Emil grinned sweetly. He finally got up and crawled to the backpack and dug around in it for the textbook.

He lingered, snooping around more than necessary, trying to distract Michele again. He found a deep red envelope with Michele written in gorgeous but unfamiliar handwriting.

“Ooh, what’s this?”

“Emil—” Michele began, in a bored tone, but when he turned to Emil his eyes widened. “Emil, wait—”

Emil  already opened the envelope and slid a card with a gorgeous sunset on the top. Emil opened it and Michele lunged to take it back, but Emil dodged and opened the card and started reading.

“Dear Michele,” he began. “I have liked you for a while now.”

“Emil, you are so stupid, give it back!”

Emil ran to the other side of the room and held the card far above his head. Michele was up in a flash and pressed up against Emil, his arms straining to reach. Their height difference was slightly more apparent now than it was normally and Michele’s hand was on his chest, and he was on his tiptoes trying to get the letter. He was close. Emil felt a little light-headed but he kept reading aloud, possibly drowned out by Michele’s constant yelling.

“I know we don’t talk much but I want to change that. Would you like to go to the Snow Ball with me?”

The words Emil read aloud finally got to his head. He read the rest silently, not really hearing Michele’s protests, or aware of any of his surroundings anymore.

_If yes, would you also like to go out this Friday? I want to get to know you. Let me know. Here is my phone number, in case you don’t have it already. Text me if you want to set something up. Thanks. See you at school_

Emil blinked. He shouldn’t have looked at the signature. He didn’t know who it was anyway, but it didn’t really matter, because now she was real. Someone who went to their school. Someone who had classes with Michele. His mind raced through the classmates he and Michele shared. But what about the classes Emil didn’t have with Michele?

“Emil,” Michele pleaded one final time, and this time was different. It wasn’t a bark or a snarl. Emil had been slightly bending backwards to keep the letter from Michele, who was almost climbing him now. Something in Michele’s voice made him drop the letter.

With impressive agility, (at least to Emil, in this state: he felt frozen) Michele reared back and side-stepped Emil to swipe the letter as it fell through the air, floating like a crisp red leaf falling from a tree. He stalked across the room and picked up the red envelope that Emil left on his backpack. He put the card back inside and put the whole thing in a drawer, the contents inside rattling as Michele opened and closed it. The slam of the drawer seemed to echo. Emil stared at Michele’s hunched form, both of them frozen in silence.

“You are so rude,” Michele finally said, venomously, softly. Each word was a pinprick in Emil’s heart.

“Sorry.” Emil’s tongue felt like lead. It was hard to get even the single word out.

Michele whirled around, fury etched in his face. “You aren’t sorry! Stop lying!”

Emil looked down. He felt ashamed. “I’m not lying.”

“You are. Don’t you know it’s rude to go through people’s mail?”

“It technically wasn’t sent through the post office,” Emil said, before he could stop himself, but he immediately regretted it. Michele snapped his mouth shut.

“I think you should leave.”

Emil snapped his eyes up, in time to see Michele turned away from him, his hands on his desk. Emil felt like he was being turned inside out.

“Michele, wait—”

“Emil, please. For once in your life, don’t argue with me.”

Emil looked down, the words surging through him like poison. He gathered his (few) materials into his backpack and hoisted it up.

“I’m sorry,” Emil said.

Michele didn’t respond. Emil held back a sigh and walked out of the room.

At home, he dumped his backpack on his bedroom floor, closed the door and blinds, and laid in bed until dinner (and he was actually hungry but he didn’t enjoy anything he ate.) He wondered how he had managed to fuck up so badly.

  
  
  
  


The next day, Emil didn’t want to go to school. He didn’t want to have to face the fact that he might have (probably did) legitimately hurt Michele. And even more than that, he didn’t want to face the fact that Michele might not accept his apology.

Emil didn’t know if it was good or bad luck that he didn’t have his first class with Michele. He could delay the inevitable, but he was also prolonging an intense anxiety that he didn’t know he had in him.

When it was time for him to pick up Michele from his class, Emil was torn. He wasn’t sure if Michele wanted to see him at all. But he didn’t want to prolong their fight. He tried to convince himself that Michele wasn’t any madder at him than he normally was. But wasn’t that a shit thing to convince himself of? If Michele really was that mad at him all the time...well that was really unhealthy. He knew he shouldn’t let himself convince himself that he and Michele weren’t friends, because they definitely were… weren’t they? Friends could fight. But it wasn’t good. No...he could fix this. Right?

He usually arrived to class earlier than Michele because his previous classroom was closer, but today he talked to some people longer than he usually would, walked slower, and even stopped to read some flyers on the wall. By then, he was actually almost late and he had to hope that the teacher wouldn’t give him a tardy note.

He snuck into the classroom, and slid into his seat, putting on the most innocent face he could muster in case the teacher decided to confront him about it. He glanced at Michele, who was looking very tense as usual. Emil gulped.

“Hey, Michele.”

“Hey.”

“I’m s—”

“Just drop it.”

“I’m sorry that I hurt you, okay? I shouldn’t have done it and I wish I hadn't.”

Immediately after, the teacher introduced the lecture and began. Emil sighed. He had tried, but he could try harder. Michele had to forgive him. Right? Was their friendship stronger than this? Has he finally crossed the line?

But maybe that was selfish. Maybe Michele was better off without him. Was this the final straw? He just couldn’t tell how personally offended Michele was by it. Like did Michele really like this girl? Maybe he wanted their relationship to be kept a secret for whatever reason. He could be shy about it. Maybe he didn’t want to announce it until it was official. But Emil wouldn’t never tell. Michele was the person he trusted most! He wanted to be that person for Michele, but he could see now that he wasn’t.

He hadn't meant to ruin his most important friendship. He was trying not to freak out because he had to have faith in Michele. He had forgiven him every time before, so there was no reason for now to be different.

  
  
  
  


Michele darted out of the room without saying anything after class ended. Emil kind of knew that it would take much more than that to win Michele back over. His last strand of hope that Michele hadn't actually been that mad was completely obliterated. How could he show Michele that he was sorry if Michele didn’t want an apology? He almost wanted to ask Sara for advice but he also didn’t want Sara to be mad at him for hurting Michele… He tried to imagine what advice Sara might give to him. Give Michele space? Buy him a puppy? He thought writing a letter might not be the most appropriate for this specific instance. He assumed that he and Michele could have been friends that never fought. Perfect for each other. But he obviously assumed wrong. He was too stupid and rude and dumb to match well with Michele’s perfect and proper self. But Michele had put up with him for a long while. He wondered what else he had done that Michele would have fought about. Or maybe Michele had been fighting him for a while now on things but Emil hadn’t caught on. He just thought Michele was joking around or that was just how Michele acted. Apparently, Emil was the dense one.

Since he couldn’t decide what to do with Michele, Emil tried avoiding him as much as possible. He didn’t walk Michele to class and he didn’t talk to Michele in class. Michele didn’t seem to mind. He seemed on board with the idea, in fact. It was telling that this was basically the only thing that Michele didn’t argue with him about: not speaking to one another. It broke Emil’s heart. Maybe they really were better off apart. Emil wondered why irony was so cruel. Maybe Michele wanted to do that to someone since Sara did that to him? But he and Sara had “made up” a long time ago, though they were still becoming their own people separately. So, why all this now? It couldn’t be related.

So, Emil found himself spending a lot of time with other friends. At some point, being alone was awful. He liked it sometimes but not enough to always be alone. He couldn’t do it. He was hanging around after school one day (because apparently these friends loved to never leave school, for some reason. Weird) for one club or another and for some reason. He walked with his friend to the classroom where the club was meeting and on the way they stopped at the bathroom. Emil waited outside since he didn’t have to go. The crowd was thinning out slightly, though not a lot, as people left the building, and would eventually leave the halls empty.

Emil felt his heart jump when he saw the familiar spiky hazelnut hair and purple windbreaker. And what was worse one of those girls from the group he talked to what felt like oh so long ago was walking with him. “Worse”—wow he really wasn’t a supportive friend at all.  He should be happy for Michele’s happiness. He was. He just wasn’t happy for his own happiness—which wasn’t at all.

He locked gazes with Michele—and Michele nodded at him. He couldn’t just ignore Michele now. He smiled and waved back.

The girl turned back to Michele. He had slowed apparently. What were they saying? Emil felt kind of gross trying to pry. If he and Michele really weren’t friends anymore (he didn’t want to accept that) then it was none of his business.

Michele made his way over to him. Emil stood up a little straighter. Should be adjust his shirt? Fix his hair? What was he thinking. He wasn’t going up on stage in front of judges. And for what, anyway? World’s worst friend? He unanimously was, there was no doubt. His throat went dry as Michele stopped right in front of him.

“Hello,” Emil said, feeling like his voice was coming from somewhere other than his own body.

Michele nodded. “Hey.”

“How have things been?” Emil asked. “But I get if you don’t have time to chat right now.”

“Where have you been?” Michele asked, completely ignoring him.

“What do you mean?” Emil asked (stupidly. He should have just said “around.”)

“I mean are you avoiding me?”

Busted. “No,” Emil laughed nervously. “Just...been around.”

Silence. Emil shifted on his feet.

“So are you dating that girl now?” he blurted, then kicked himself inwardly.  Why was he so stupid?

Michele looked baffled at that. “What?”

He couldn’t forget the name that was signed in the letter. It was forever imprinted in his mind. He said her name.

Michele looked alarmed. Emil wished he could navigate a single conversation without hurting Michele.

“You don’t have to—”

“No.”

Emil was sure Michele had said it in a normal volume but he still felt like he didn’t hear right. “What?” Emil thought his voice sounded squeaky. Did he swallow a mouse that he didn’t remember eating?

“No.”

Silence.

“Okay.”

They stared at each other.

Michele nodded. “Okay, well—”

“Are you still mad at me about opening your letter?” Emil blurted. Michele, who was already turning to leave froze.

Emil plunged on without taking a breath. “Because I’m really sorry and I didn’t tell anyone, if you were trying to keep it a secret, which I am assuming you were. Like, I’m sad that you didn’t feel safe telling me, since I thought we were best friends and you can trust me with anything, but like, even though what I did doesn’t seem like this, I really do respect your privacy and I won’t do anything like that again.”

Michele stared at him. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.” Emil felt a little lightheaded. Was he breathing? HIs stomach hurt. “So are we cool?”

“I guess.”

“Okay.” Why couldn’t he stop talking? He was still talking. “Because before, I was pretty confident about if I knew how to read you but now I’m now I’m kind of scared that I don’t know you as well as I thought. And I don’t want to make a big deal about anything but like we are still friends, right?”

“Yes, you idiot.”

Emil was pretty sure he saw a flicker of a smile on Michele’s face. His eyes looked kind. Not like cold amethyst or something, but like spring flowers soaking up the sun. “I love you.”

Emil could not believe his luck or ears. His day seemed to turn on a dime. Not only affection but direct affection—from Michele? What was this? “I love you, too,” Emil grinned, pulling Michele into a hug.

“As a friend. And also—”

The words were kind of muffled in Emil’s shirt. Could Emil just ignore them? Could he just hug Michele forever, feel his body pressed against his, smell his cinnamon hair, and pretend everything was okay.

“Okay,” Emil said, putting on his biggest grin and taking his arms away from around Michele. He stepped back. “Of course. Me too.”

Michele looked at him, almost in confusion. Emil had no idea what he had to be confused about.

“I’m going to go now,” Emil said, backing away.

Michele looked at the water fountain beside him. “Okay.”

“See you later,” Emil said, turning around and trying not to run.

“See you.”

  
  
  
  


Emil was normally a “live in the moment” kind of guy. Or at least he tried to be as much as possible. He loved having fun with his friends and laughing and being happy. After that conversation with Michele, he went into the room where the club meeting was held and proceeded to goof off as much as possible.  He laughed at everything everyone else said because he wasn’t feeling very funny himself right now. Luckily, this wasn’t a competitive club, otherwise Emil would have felt bad about getting them off track. But the group of them had a great time together. At least better than when he went home and his world came crashing down on him.

It was funny how life had a way of working itself out in the worst possible way. He was elated that Michele had finally forgiven him completely but then he was completely blindsided and completely shut down. He wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed about that or not. The fact that he had been so obvious that even Michele, as dense and attractive as he was, caught on. Emil wasn’t one for hiding his emotions. Hiding anything. Maybe his sadness. Because he thought that focusing on happiness was better anyway. He didn’t try to hide anything. He just focused more on making other people happy and he was a pretty cheerful guy and people liked that about him. When he hid something it wasn’t about hiding. It was about pleasing other people.

So, he didn’t hide that he enjoyed Michele’s company. But he didn’t think he was being that obvious with like flirting or anything. But maybe everyone knew. Maybe he wasn’t as secretive as he thought he was. Why else would Michele say that? Michele must have known the whole time. That was pretty embarrassing. He kept quiet for so long because he thought Emil wouldn’t be a fucking idiot and would get over him soon enough. But he hadn't. He had not gotten over Michele soon enough at all. Not soon at all.

That was pretty embarrassing.

But now that his secret was out, he had to do something about it. He couldn’t acted like a wounded gazelle the whole time. He would just have to get over it. It wasn’t the end of the world. (It felt like it.) If Michele didn’t want him, then he must not be right for Emil.

That felt like such a lie to say because Michele did feel right for Emil. He was so happy with Michele. Michele made him a better person and he thought he did the same for Michele. He hoped he did. Maybe it was more one sided than he originally thought. But he couldn’t think that Michele hated him throughout their entire friendship, could he?

Maybe he did. Maybe Michele was just using him as a crutch right after Sara told them to live on their own, and now he was used to it and fine and was ready to make actual friends. Real friends.  Date.

But it didn’t matter. The best thing now was for Emil to get over Michele. Michele tried to give him space and he just… didn’t get the hint. Nothing would come of it and  Emil knew this would ultimately happen even if he hoped otherwise.

It was probably for the best. It probably wasn’t healthy to hold onto a crush for so long without doing anything which was what Emil would have done. He would just have to look forward and hope for the best and at least he wasn’t losing one of his closest and best friends.

  
  
  
  


Emil went right back to avoiding Michele. It was even less fun than the first time, if that was even possible. Apparently it was possible.

One of his friends asked him to the dance and he said yes because he thought it would help him get over Michele. It did not help. Instead, he ruined someone’s perfectly good night, and also did not have a good night on his own. He wanted to be there with Michele. And for better or for worse, Michele didn’t even seem to be there.

A little ways into the night, Sara grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him into a corner of the huge room.

“Hey, Sara, how is your night going?” Emil asked, as if they had to find a quiet spot away from the crowd just to have smalltalk

“What is going on with you?” Sara asked.

“What do you mean?” Emil asked, playing dumb.

“You know what I mean mean!” Sara said. “Normally, you would be having the time of your life? What gives?”

Emil gave up the act. “I think you know.” His face fell.

Sara sighed. “I thought it had something to do with you,” she mumbled. “Michele has been sad. Dramatic. More dramatic than usual.”

Emil gawked. “Why is Michele sad?”

Sara looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Because you rejected him?”

Emil covered his gaping mouth with his hand. “What? But Michele rejected me!”

Sara facepalmed. “Wow...this is a mess.”

Emil remained silent, his brain on overload. Michele thought he rejected him? When?

“I can’t believe this,” Sara said.

“Me, either,” Emil said.

“Well,” Sara said, “I suppose you still owe your date a good night. Not too, good, though.”

Emil laughed nervously. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Emil?” Sara said, as they walked back onto the dance floor.

“Yeah?”

“Both of you are dumb.”

Emil had to grin at that.

“We really are.”

  
  
  
  


Emil felt a little bad, but he couldn’t wait for the night to be over. At the end of the night, when he dropped his date back off at her house, he explained the whole thing. He was so grateful when she looked kind of amused.

“I knew something was going on,” she said.

“Yeah,” Emil said apologetically. “Neither of us are very subtle.”

“You aren’t,” she agreed. “I was hoping I was just imagining it, but I guess not.”

“I’m sorry.”

The girl shrugged. “It happens.”

She was being really understanding. Somehow that made Emil feel even worse. “Sorry for wasting your time.”

The girl shook her head. “I had fun, anyway.”

Emil smiled softly. “Me, too.”

The girl put her hands on her thighs and looked at the dashboard, blankly, for a moment. She took a deep breath, and looked at Emil with a small smile. “Alright, then. Go get him.”

Emil grinned at her as she got out of the car and shut the door behind her. He waited until she was safely inside and then drove to Michele’s house.

He parked on the street and got out of his car, and hoped Michele was awake.

_Emil: let me in_

He stood under what he was pretty sure was Michele’s window. He thought he saw Michele peeking through the blinds but maybe he was just tired. He checked his phone again.

_Michele: come to the back_

Emil’s heart pounded in his chest, but he grinned. He waited by the backdoor. When Michele finally opened the door, Emil couldn’t contain his excitement and he hugged Michele with all his might.

“Oh my god,” Michele hissed in his ear.

“I love you!” Emil whispered back, though he wanted to shout it.

“I love you too, idiot, but why did you have to come all the way here to say it?” Michele said, his whisper going from angry to a little bit gentler.

Emil took a step back. “Because you didn’t reject me,” he said.

Michele looked astounded. “What?”

“I thought you just wanted to be friends,” Emil said. “Otherwise I would have asked you to the dance.”

Michele looked at him in silence for a few moments. Emil grinned at him.

“I’m sorry,” Emil said.

“What? Why are you sorry,” Michele whispered. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Dances are stupid, anyway, so whatever.”

Emil grinned and hugged Michele again. Michele leaned into the hug and Emil savored it. Their bodies fit so perfectly together, and Michele was so warm and strong. Emil never wanted to let go.

“I thought you rejected me,” Michele mumbled in Emil’s shoulder.

“Well, I can’t believe you could have thought that,” Emil said, “because when did you think you even told me your feelings?”

Michele wriggled away from him and shrugged.

“We are both idiots,” Michele said.

“Agreed,” Emil said with a big smile.

“So…” Michele looked down. He tapped a toe behind him and clenched his hands into fists.

“Yea?”

“Did you come all the way here just for that?” Michele asked.

Emil’s heart froze. “Just for—”

Suddenly, Michele’s hands were on Emil’s collar and he jerked Emil forward.

“Wha—” Emil barely breathed before Michele was kissing him.

Emil tried kissing back but he was smiling too much.

Finally, Michele stepped back. “You are such a dork,” he scowled, shaking his head.

“I love you,”  Emil smiled, stepping close to him again.

“I love you, too,” Michele said, and Emil felt his heart settle deep in contentment. What else could he ask for? He leaned into kiss Michele one more time (who was he kidding? As many times as he could) and made sure to reply to him over and over: _I love you. I love you. I love you._


End file.
